


Death and Darkness, Nothing More

by Mersheeple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Severus Snape, Dark, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insomnia, Mild Fluff, Nightmares, PTSD, Past Abuse, Post War, Self-Harm, Severus Snape Lives, Very dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: Severus Snape has finally recovered from the snake bite that almost killed him and has returned to the faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But many things have changed and Severus does not like it. At all. People have started to notice that something is not right but Severus is saying nothing. After all, no one really cares anyway...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Severus Snape & Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 159





	1. Prologue: Those Stupid Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite a dark fic in comparison to my usual style. PLEASE take into account that this deals with a lot of potentially triggering themes before reading.
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are my own! I own nothing you recognise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom: Nightmares.

He knows this one. He remembers it well. He flies through the air, gliding in a strange black mist, a spell he created with Regulus Black. Reg was a genius when it came down to it. A complete mad man at times, but a genius none the less. Especially when it came to creating new spells. A spell heading towards him caught his eye and he ducked, tucking into a roll as the ground hurtled towards him. Oh yes, he remembers how this goes.  
  
Severus stood up from his ungainly heap, turning to look up at the laughing boys standing above him. He had known them too long not to know them now.  
  
“Because of you, my Lily had to die. Because of you Snivellus, my boy grew up with no parents. He grew up beaten and starved. I had her and you couldn’t stand it. You gave us up to the Dark Lord because you couldn’t stand knowing that I made Lily happy. You deserve to die!” The youngest man, little more than a child himself, fired a bright red stunner towards him that withered and died as it hit him. His body reacted but he felt nothing.  
  
“You should have listened to Harry. You should have listened to the children. They told you what to do. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have lived, and Harry would be happy. If Harry was happy, he would have been able to help save everyone else. No one else needed to die. Just the Dark Lord. Because of you, hundreds are dead.” The second man flicked his hair out of his eyes before sending a jet of purple spell fire at his chest. He flinched, looking down as his shirt stained with bright red blood. His eyes widened in fear as he began to twitch.  
  
“You wasted your life on both sides of the war. Now you are alone, and no one wants you. No one trusts you. Everyone wants you dead. No one will mourn you. Even the Dark Lord didn’t care. He wanted you dead. He was willing to do it.” The scruffy, sandy haired man shuffled and giggled nervously before firing a sickly yellow spell at him. Severus reached up to his throat, his voice bubbling as he tried to scream through the blood now spilling between his fingers.  
  
The fourth man, the quietest, the last to die, sighed and stepped forward sadly. “You are hearing absolutely nothing new from us Severus. You know what we deserved. We were good people. You were not. You are not. You don’t deserve to live when we all died. You chose the wrong path, the wrong Master. You know where to go.” Remus Lupin raised his wand and cast Imperio, forcing Severus to turn and walk towards the Shrieking Shack. He had learned years before to fight it off but, with his blood flowing from wounds in his neck and chest, he just wasn’t strong enough. His mind felt heavy as he walked into the dusty old building, the scene of too many of his nightmares, too many of his worst memories.  
  
He walked into the Shrieking Shack, the smell of dust and blood assaulting his nostrils. He walked towards the snake-faced man in the corner, forced to continue his journey by the Imperius curse. The man turned, looking at him, his eyes flashing bright blue, twinkling at him.  
  
“For the Greater Good!” The words were wrong, all wrong, as a bolt of sickly green light, headed towards Severus, the snake Nagini leaping at him at the same second.  
  
He sat upright in bed, his legs wrapped in his sheets, his breath coming in soft pants, a sheen of sweat on his skin. He wretched, leaning down to vomit off the side of his bed onto the cold dungeon floors. He closed his eyes for a second, collecting his thoughts. He picked up his wand with a shaky hand and Vanished the remnants of his previous night’s dinner.  
  
“Just a dream. Only a dream.” He whimpered softly to himself. Every night they came. Those Stupid Dreams. 


	2. Primarily, The Subject Darkens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom - Self-destructive Behaviours. Severus shows us exactly how bad things have become.

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. The mirror, long since Silenced after one too many disparaging remarks, stared back. He ran his hands over his own arms, tracing his fingers lightly over the muscles and tendons that were evident. He knows he isn’t particularly well built, having grown from a weak and weedy child into a slim and lanky adolescent and now finally maturing into a slight adult, but his body type has never bothered him. It is just his scars.

The first scar he ever got is silvered and faded but, even thirty or more years later he can still see it. A curved mark on his hip. The edge of a belt buckle, a perfect outline that has only stretched on his skin and warped. The first time his Father had ever turned the belt on him. Severus had shown the first sparks of magic that day and his Father had shown his displeasure. Tobias Snape had slid the leather belt from his jeans and struck him three times. Twice he had only hit Severus’s tiny body with the leather but on the third strike, he had split the skin on his hip, raising a welt and damaging him so that, even now, Severus sometimes found that his hip popped out of joint and caused him pain.

Severus doesn’t remember how many scars he got from his Father. By the time Severus went to Hogwarts, the beatings were almost daily, and his young body was littered with scars; some from Tobias’ belt, some from his rings and some from when he put his cigarettes out on his own son’s skin.

He remembers the first scar he got at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor boy, he still wasn’t sure which of the Marauders it was, had snuck something into his cauldron when he was preparing the first potion he had ever tried to make. The cauldron had exploded, some shrapnel catching by his eye and cutting deep enough to scar. Slughorn had sent him to Madam Pomfrey and she had taken his vitals, healed him with Dittany and offered him a course of Vitamin potions. He had refused, shaking his head, all while thinking that he could never afford the potions.

He gained many scars at the hands of the Marauders, many more at the hands of his Father in the holidays. There were many scars he had that he had finally, after he had been saved from certain death by the Golden Trio, realised were not entirely his fault. He turned his arm, staring at the ugliest of all his scars.

It had once been the Dark Mark, a symbol of his true hatred of all those who had wounded him. The silvery scar was overlaid with pink and still further with red. Severus saw the flash of metal a split second before more red welled up on his arm. He had stop feeling the cuts long ago. It wasn’t about the pain anymore. It was about the punishment.

It was his fault. Everything was his fault. His fault that Voldemort had heard of the prophecy. His fault that Voldemort had targeted the Potters. His fault that Lily had died. His fault that Harry had been scarred. His fault that the Longbottoms had been tortured. His fault that Pettigrew had got away. His fault that Voldemort had come back. His fault that Albus had died. His fault that Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Creevey, the house elf Dobby, even the owl…everyone…they were all his fault.

The blade slashed his skin over and over, droplets of red pooling on the dungeon floor by his feet and yet he continued to stare into the mirror, paying no heed to the blood. In the distance, a bell rang for the start of Breakfast in the Great Hall and he dropped the blade to the floor. His stomach churned and grumbled but there were no hunger pains and so he merely closed his eyes and stepped over the blood on the floor. The house elves were more than used to clearing up his messes.

He moved into the bathroom in slow motion, twitching his wand hand slightly to start the shower running. The bottle of Dittany in his bathroom cupboard was never touched any more. He didn’t deserve to be healed from scars that were his own fault. He stepped under the water, letting the flow wash the blood from his arm and wrist. He let the water run clear before he reached for his soap. The smell of sandalwood and herbs and woodsmoke penetrated his mind and he closed his eyes, giving in to the relaxing sensations of the water as he rubbed the bar of soap between his hands, working up a lather. He ran his hand over his arm, the soap getting into the cuts and causing a fresh sting. He sighed in a mix of pain and relief and scrubbed harder, watching the blood well up again and again. He felt his wards breached by the House Elf that was assigned to his quarters, a more recent addition to the staff at Hogwarts, and knew he should be completing his ablutions fairly soon.

There had been many homeless Elves after the end of the War. And still more when the last of the Death Eaters had been captured and tried. Well, not the last. But the last that wasn’t hailed as a hero by the Golden Trio. Severus still considered himself a Death Eater, regardless of what they said. He was no hero. He had performed atrocious acts in the first War and, if the Potters had never been targeted, would he have performed more in the second War? He didn’t know. It was a thought he fought with daily.  
The House Elves had been offered many options. Some chose new families, those belonging to the Order Members primarily. Some chose to stay in the confiscated properties; essentially choosing to fade back into the foundations of the ancient houses until such time as they were able to manifest for the new families. A few had chosen to move to Europe, to other branches of the families who had stayed out of the War. And many had chosen to move to Hogwarts. So many, in fact, that all staff members had been given their own House Elf.

Severus stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly with a spell, patting the tight skin on his arm with a soft towel to remove all the excess moisture that wasn’t removed with the spell. He walked into his room, a towel slung low on his hips and walked to his wardrobe. Everyone knew of his scarring on his neck and so he felt no need to cover it. It was easily irritated and so he had changed his wardrobe in one way. Instead of his usual high collared shirt he now wore a mandarin collar that sat looser around his neck.  
He continued to favour black, occasionally adding, under his robes where no one could see, a waistcoat in one of his other favourite colours; charcoal grey, forest green and silver. Of course, no one would ever know but, to some extent, he enjoyed keeping this secret to himself. It made him smile, internally of course, when he heard people calling him The Bat to know that his waistcoat matched his underwear and was, subtly, not as dark as they assumed the rest of him was.

A flash of light illuminated the blade on his bedside table. This is why he liked having his own House Elf. Nika, the elf that had chosen him, would remove his old blades and leave a fresh one for him every day. She had done so since the first time he had become angry at her for taking it away. No matter how bad it got, she always left him a new blade. Just like, no matter how good it got, he always had new scars.


	3. Potions Tomorrow - Severus's Distracted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Poor Memory/Poor Concentration

Severus stood at the front of the Potions classroom, staring at the back wall, waiting for his sixth year students to arrive. He rubbed his arm subtly, catching the cuffs of his sleeves on the older cuts, not flinching as the skin pulled and almost reopened.

New blades continued to show up on his bedside table every day and Severus continued to stare in the mirror, focussing on new areas of skin to mark. There was only so many times he could cover the same scars, even that of the Dark Mark, before he desperately needed a new patch of skin. He was careful not to mark anywhere that could be noticed, of course. His clothes covered enough of his skin that it rarely mattered anyway. His arms and legs were the easiest to mark, each cut deep enough to scar but shallow enough to stop bleeding on its own. Often repeated in the same place until the scars of Cruciatus and other dark curses were covered. Or at least partially hidden.

Severus had taken to missing breakfast at the beginning of the school year but after Minerva had pushed and nagged and, on one almost regrettable occasion, almost stumbled upon his morning ritual, he had taken to waking early so that he could still find his release before stalking through the hallways to the Great Hall for breakfast. Minerva had begun to insist that he take up his rightful place as her Deputy, sitting on her left hand side, with Filius on her right as joint Deputy Headmaster. Severus had wanted to step down completely after the War and it had been a condition of his returning to the school that he would be allowed to slip backwards into the dungeons and ignore his old responsibilities. Hogwarts, it seemed, had other ideas.

After the War, he had spent almost five years away, “convalescing” as some were wont to call it. In fact, he had spent two years in a coma as the Healers had thrown every manner of potions and anti-venom and even some charms at him. In the time he was asleep, he had been acquitted of all crimes and awarded an Order of Merlin First Class. When he had woken, the first visitors he had had had confirmed that the War was over. The Golden Trio had explained everything. Potter had shown only the bare minimum of people his memories, or at least, so Potter had felt. Minister Shacklebolt, Minerva, the other two thirds of the Golden Trio and Auror Robards, Head of the DMLE were the only people who had seen the memories that proved his innocence. Or at least, assuaged enough of his guilt that he was acquitted.

The final three years he had spent running away. He had travelled, trying to hide from the pull to come back to Hogwarts. It was only when he was in the darkest reaches of South America and a desperate owl from Minerva arrived, claiming that the wards of Hogwarts were failing and two Muggles had managed to get in through the gates that he had finally agreed to return to his old position of Potions Master. The day he had walked into the old halls he had felt a warmth drip into his bones that had not been there before. The wards had accepted him back and strengthened. They would not release him from the bonds that tied him to the castle.

Of course, in five years there had been many changes. The staff were ostensibly younger than they had ever been. Professor Sprout had retired and left Neville Longbottom to take over Herbology. The Defence Against the Dark Arts position was no longer cursed, thanks to the death of Tom Riddle, but, just in case, to circumvent any issues that may arise it was split between two different Professors that he had hoped never to work with; Professor Harry Potter trained the 6th and 7th year students and Professor Ronald Weasley taught the lower years. Potter was also a consultant for the DMLE and offered additional training for those who wanted to become Aurors. Weasley also worked with Rolanda Hooch to help with Quidditch practices.

But the worst changes, or perhaps the best, were the addition of the third member of the Golden Trio and his godson to the staff. Professor Granger had taken on the role of Transfiguration Professor and, while apparently competent, she had also chosen to run the Duelling Club, the Arithmancy Club, three different study sessions (one for the lower years, one for OWL students and one for those studying for NEWTs) and was helping Madam Pince in the library. Severus could not get away from the little chit. She was everywhere and constantly looking to corner him. He was just perfect for the Duelling Club. He was just perfect for the study sessions with the older students. Why couldn’t she see he wasn’t perfect for anything?

Draco, his godson, was only slightly better than the insufferable know-it-all. Surprisingly, he had become the Arithmancy teacher almost straight after his Eighth Year. His grades had, of course, been slightly lower than Granger’s. Except in Arithmancy where he had managed to pull ahead of Granger and had been offered an Apprenticeship, followed by the position teaching the lower students before taking over from Septima Vector after two years when she had chosen to move to Ilvermorny with her partner.

Draco had become a far better man than his father ever was. After the War, Lucius had chosen death rather than face Azkaban. But even in that he had been weak. He had turned to one of the other Death Eaters and used Imperius to receive the Avada Kedavra. Draco, stood no more than five metres away, had screamed as his father fell. Narcissa had, thanks to her bravery in the Forbidden Forest, been given a lesser sentence of three years of house arrest. Though she was unmarked, she had allowed atrocities to occur in her home and had allowed the torture of a member of the Golden Trio. Potter had spoken against the ruling on multiple occasions, but it was decided that one of the Malfoys had to be punished and Narcissa had taken her punishment as she did everything else, stoically and with grace.

Draco, although marked, had been able to move on in his life. He had not, as was expected, married young. He had instead chosen to wait for love and was currently planning to propose to Astoria Greengrass, younger sister of Daphne Greengrass who had sadly been married off as a reward to one of the Death Eaters in the last months of the War. Astoria had no idea that he planned to propose but was so completely in love that she would almost definitely say yes.

There would soon be the next generation of Malfoys running around, Severus was sure. He had been surprised that there was no Potter sprog running around but had been informed in no uncertain terms that Potter was waiting for the right girl. Ginevra Weasley had, apparently, not been the right girl. She had joined the Harpies and promptly fallen in love with one of the coaches, a bright and bubbly young woman. Minerva had owed him a Galleon for that. He had seen it, even if no one else could. Severus smirked slightly. Oh yes, in a family like the Weasleys, at least one had to have been gay. Severus had called it on Charles Weasley as well. The young man had brought a very nice wizard home and introduced him as his husband. That had cost Minerva only a Sickle. Still, Severus had proved his point. Never bet with a Slytherin.

Severus blinked as the bell rang and he looked at the students now leaving his classroom. When had they arrived? Professor Granger stood to the side of his classroom, ushering the students out. He turned to glare at her, and she smiled sadly.

“They waited thirty minutes before they came to get me Sev-Professor Snape. You seemed distracted. I tried to rouse you but…you just stared. Are you ok?” Her voice was soft, almost husky, and he frowned slightly. She was obviously trying to comfort him. He rolled his eyes before glaring at her again.

“Professor Granger, if I needed your help, I would request it. I will speak to Madam Pomfrey if I need anything.” He shook his head distractedly. Maybe he did need something. A Wit Sharpening Potion might not go amiss. How had he been so distracted and so unable to concentrate that not only had the students entered his classroom but so had she? He turned and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him, only realising he had left her in his classroom when he heard the door close and felt his wards fall into place.


	4. Pervasive Thoughts Suffered Daily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrusive Memories/Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some violence and potentially upsetting scenes...

He had taken to drinking the Wit Sharpening Potion most mornings now, before he went to the Great Hall for breakfast. He couldn’t have another day of being distracted so much that he didn’t even know his students were around. He was, of course, self-medicating. What was the point of being a Potions Master if he had to ask permission to have Potions? No, he was quite capable of brewing and drinking his potions himself thank you very much.

He billowed into the Great Hall for breakfast one weekend morning and was pleased to see that there was no one around. It must still be early. He could eat and go back to the dungeons without having to deal with inane chatter. He took his usual seat at the Head Table and muttered his request at his plate, knowing that the House Elves would hear and prepare his food.

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open and Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Molly and Arthur Weasley and many other members of the Order of the Phoenix walked into the room, all pointing their wands at him. He stood, his wand in his hand faster than he had expected after five years of relative peace.

He saw Potter and Weasley and the Granger girl walk towards him and they too had their wands raised. He sent a harmless bolt of spell work at them, nothing more than a modified Tarantellegra spell, but it struck one of the Order and he heard the scream. Minerva seemed to appear from nowhere, throwing a spell at him, one he didn’t recognise. Something strong though, it rebounded off his hastily erected Protego, and he heard another scream as someone fell behind him. He sent another weak spell forward. He didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. He had done enough of that during the War.

The bolts of spells were coming faster now, the children were screaming, he couldn’t protect them. He heard the Carrows behind him, egging him on; Amycus advocating the use of Unforgiveables and Alecto begging to be allowed to join the fight. He flung another spell over his head, a bolt of fire that he controlled like a whip, a spell he had once created for the Dark Lord’s use. He heard it clip someone behind him and they screamed. Higher pitched, it must have been Alecto. One down, one to go. He flicked the whip in front of him, aiming above Minerva, sure he could make it look convincing. The whip returned to behind him and he heard a body fall, screaming and writhing on the ground. Minerva raised her wand again and he thought to flee, planning his exit as easily as he had the first time.  
The first time.  
The first time?

Severus turned behind him and saw a girl wrapped in the binding torturous ropes of his fiery whip spell and dropped to the ground. He waved his wand, silently cancelling the spell from his position behind the Head Table in the Great Hall. He raised his head, glancing over the Great Hall. The doors were closed, the Order of the Phoenix no longer standing staring at him. Potter and Weasley and Minerva were all gone too. He turned back to where the girl was lain on the floor from his spell work and cursed under his breath. Granger. Why did it have to be her? He stood quickly, casting a diagnostic spell but knowing what he would find.

The spell was particularly nasty, especially if one had ever come into contact with Dark Magic before. It tortured like the Cruciatus, burned like Fiendfyre and caused even healed wounds to burst open again. He rolled her onto her back and saw the bleeding on her chest. He swore again, lifting her into his arms. Oh, this felt familiar. The young girl in his arms whimpered and he swore vehemently before beginning his run to the Hospital Wing.

He ran past students who were just waking up, pushing through the groups, ignoring as they called out to question what had happened to their favourite Professor. He held her close, feeling the blood seeping through her robes to his. He shook from head to toe. The last time he had seen her like this was when Dolohov had attacked her in the Department of Mysteries debacle, and he had had to try desperately to heal her then. She had been left with a nasty scar that he had been unable to fade. He was helpless. She was going to die this time and it would be all his fault.

He entered the Hospital Wing, shouting for Poppy, placing Professor Granger on the bed furthest from the doors and summoning the curtains around the bed so that she couldn’t be seen.

“Severus! What happened?” Poppy’s voice barely penetrated his mind as he began to shake, dropping to his knees and retching, his stomach already mostly empty from only eating breakfast the day before. Poppy Pomfrey cast a quick cleaning spell on him before casting diagnostics on Professor Granger.

“Ignis Flagellum? I haven’t seen this used in years…five years…oh Severus what happened?” Poppy summoned her Patronus, a Crane that she was rather proud of, and sent it off to Minerva, requesting help. Severus continued to shake, mumbling strained apologies over and over. Minerva entered the Hospital Wing with a crack of Apparition, something she had no doubt learned from Albus. He could hear her footsteps as she moved with little regard for her age, stopping at the end of the hospital bed and taking in the scene before her.

“Severus close her chest wound. Vulnera Sanentur. It’s your spell.” Her no-nonsense tone brooked no argument and he stood shakily, ever obedient to orders. He began to sing softly, his wand automatically making the movements to close the chest wound. “Poppy, the wound on her arm if you could please? It will not heal so…just stop it bleeding as much as you can.” Minerva nodded as Poppy Pomfrey began to slow the bleeding of the wound from the Dark knife that Bellatrix had caused.

Minerva herself walked out of the cubicle, her hand shaking slightly as she attempted to piece together what may have happened, walking to the Potion Supplies and picking up the necessary Pain Potions and Blood Replenishing Potions. She picked up a vial of Dreamless Sleep, remembering only too well that the Ignis Flagellum caused horrendous nightmares of every remembered pain for the first forty eight hours after its use. Hopefully Hermione would be able to explain what had happened before she fell asleep. Minerva entered the cubicle again, moving to the head of the bed, reaching out a hand to touch Severus’ shoulder, frowning slightly as he flinched. Hermione’s chest wound had closed, still ragged round the edges but, perhaps, slightly neater than before? Or was that just wishful thinking on Minerva’s part?

“Hermione? Can you hear me?” Minerva spoke softly, hoping she could make sense of what had happened before it was too late. If there was a threat in the school, she needed to know. Hermione groaned, her eyes fluttering open as Minerva watched and sighed with relief.

“Minerva? Is Severus alright?” Hermione’s voice broke as she looked around, searching for the dark man who stood stoically at the side of her bed. Her eyes caught his and she blinked, offering him a tiny smile.

“Severus? Why, yes dear, Severus is unharmed.” Minerva looked at him, frowning at the look on his face. “Severus?” Minerva looked at him as he started to back away, his eyes fixed on a point above the bed. He shook his head slightly, pushing backwards through the curtain, his eyes wide with horror. Minerva stepped forward towards him and he whimpered, softly crying out as he fell to the ground, clawing at his neck, gurgling past some unseen obstruction in his throat.

His breaths were short, his eyes wide as he clawed at the scarred area of his throat. Minerva watched with horror as he began to cry, his tears silvery with memories, a small dribble of blood coming from the side of his mouth as his fingernails, blunt though they were, tore at the skin on his throat.

“Minerva! Help him!” Hermione screamed, sitting upright, her face pale. Minerva shook herself slightly as Poppy ran to his side, immobilising him and freezing him with a well-aimed Petrificus Totalus. She levitated him to one of the other beds, rapidly healing his throat and slipping a Calming Draught from her pocket and into his throat. Poppy moved back to Hermione’s bed side and checked her other patient before taking a seat.

“What’s going on Miss Granger?” Poppy’s voice was soft but firm, demanding an answer while acting like she was requesting it. Minerva blinked twice, lowering herself heavily into the second chair beside the bed. Hermione twitched slightly, trying to hide what was going on before sighing sadly.

“Professor Snape was in the Great Hall…”

“At six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday?” Minerva interrupted sharply, her eyes flicking towards the man in the next door bed.

“Yes Minerva. After the incident with his class, I set an extra ward on his rooms. I wanted to make sure he was safe. It only told me when he left. I didn’t exactly know where he was heading but I headed down towards the dungeons and heard noises in the Great Hall. Severus was alone in there. Minerva, I think he was reliving something from the War.” Hermione paused, not particularly wanting to speculate on someone as private as Severus Snape.

“I’ve been wondering about that too actually. It isn’t the first time I have seen this. After the First War…well, there were people who relived some horrendous atrocities. I think Severus was the only one who didn’t.” Poppy nodded and Minerva hummed softly.

“Are you saying, Miss Granger, that Severus attacked you this morning?” Minerva probed gently and Hermione closed her eyes, nodding sadly.

“I think, Minerva, that Professor Snape attacked Alecto Carrow. I just got in the way.” Hermione made eye contact and hoped that Minerva would remember that night. The Headmistress nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Severus was reliving the last day of the War, the day before things had changed, when he was still hated, still a Pariah. The poor boy was alone that last year. It still made Minerva feel incredibly guilty.

“What can we do for our boy, Poppy? What can any of us do?” Minerva turned to Poppy with a sad look in her eyes and Hermione reached for the Dreamless Sleep potion that would help her heal. Hermione felt that his oldest friends and, perhaps more importantly, those who had helped him as a child, would probably be best positioned to help him now, no matter how much she wanted to care for him and help him through what he was going through.


	5. Petrificus Totalus-ing Shadowy Delineations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Startle Reflex / Hypervigilance

Severus awoke in a bed that wasn’t his own. It was dark but it felt different. The mattress was newer, not lumpy and punishing on his back. It was smaller too, a narrow single bed, shorter than the bedframe he was used to. He tried to move, to get his bearings when a movement caught his eye. With less than a second’s thought, he flung a wordless, wandless Petrificus Totalus in the direction of the movement. It bounced off of a hastily erected Protego and a silent spell lit up the area around him with strange blue flames. Hermione Granger walked into the light with a half-smile on her lips.

“Sev-Professor Snape, you are in the Hospital Wing. Do you…do you remember what happened?” She stumbled over his name again. It was as if she wanted to be his friend. Or at least be on friendly terms. Which, considering what he had done…What he had done. What had he done to her? He cursed under his breath softly as his eyes widened.

“Miss Granger, are you well?” He struggled to sit up and she stepped forward quickly, placing her hand on his. He stilled immediately, staring at her hand and then raising his eyebrow as he looked at her face for the first time since he had woken. She gave him another of her half-smiles before waving a hand over his prone body. Instantly he felt the lifting of some form of ward that had been set to keep him still. Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder as he moved to sit up and he realised she was trying to help him get comfortable. He looked at her gratefully as she manoeuvred his pillows to prop him up. He was about to thank her when another movement caught his eye and he instantly cast another Petrificus Totalus into the space.

“Professor!” Hermione squeaked softly and cast a Finite in the general direction of the curtains. Poppy Pomfrey stepped into the cubicle and looked directly at Severus.

“Now really young man, is that any way to greet me?” She waved her wand at him, casting multiple diagnostic spells without saying a word. Severus always appreciated her lack of emotional outbursts and her no nonsense approach to healing. He knew many children felt she was cold, but Severus had always found the inane babble of most Healers utterly exhausting. She nodded briefly, obviously satisfied with the results of her diagnostic spell and then she sat on the side of his bed. Miss Granger smiled at him again and he noticed the sadness in her eyes for a split second before she turned to leave.

“I hope you feel better soon Professor. You know where to find me if you need…anything.” She stepped towards the cubicle curtain and he felt compelled to stop her.

“Miss Granger, I believe I asked if you were well. Unlike in the classroom, I actually would like your answer.” He trailed off, a small smirk on his face as she turned to look at him.

“Oh! Well, just the usual itching. And…and the scar on my arm has never closed properly so…I suppose that will bleed for a few days. Nothing a glass of wine and a slice of chocolate cake can’t fix.” She smiled at him again, this time a real smile with none of the sadness of the previous ones. “And yourself, Professor?”

“That scar on your arm will not heal without specialist treatment. I may have something that will help.” Severus spoke calmly before nodding at Hermione. “Similarly, my own injuries were, I’m assuming, minor. I think, nothing a slice of Lemon Meringue Pie and a good glass of wine won’t cure. Perhaps you would like to sit and join me before returning to your chambers?”

“Professor that – “

“Miss Granger, I haven’t been your Professor for a long time. Longer if we consider the fact that many things you, almost, taught yourself. You may use my first name.” Severus offered the olive branch she had been almost begging him for since he had first come out of the hospital after the snake bite. He had always held off, considering it too much of a step for his rational mind to handle. The look she gave him now, the smile she threw his way that lit up her face and completely transformed her whole stature, made it worth it.

“Well then, Severus, you must call me Hermione. I feel like I could still be in uniform sitting in your class when you call me ‘Miss Granger’. And I would love to join you, if the offer was genuine.” She moved back to sit in the chair next to his bed and he caught a faint whiff of her perfume. It was muskier than he was expecting, and he realised with a jolt that she was definitely no longer the girl who had sat in his classroom in her uniform, waving her hand madly. She was, in fact, a young woman. A, perhaps more than, passably attractive young woman who was willing to spend time with him. Poppy stood up then, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him, a smirk appearing on her face just briefly as she raised one eyebrow, a trait she had learned from him when he was much younger and much more prone to bouts of stupidity. Severus made no motion, knowing that Poppy would draw her own conclusions as she left him alone with the girl almost twenty years his junior. The thought made him shudder briefly.

“Hermione, how old are you?” The words were out his mouth before he could stop them and he cringed, ready to apologise or at least bluff his way out of an awkward situation. However, surprisingly, Hermione threw her head back and laughed.

“That is entirely too complicated a question to be asked without providing chocolate first Severus!” She waved her hand at the chair next to the bed and turned it into something more comfortable, her eyes twinkling as she lowered herself before calling for a house elf. “Marla!” The little elf popped into being beside her, squeaking softly.

“Marla is being here Missy Hermione. What can Marla do?” The elf shuffled nervously, a half curtsey, half nod the strangest movement Severus had seen in a while. Of course, Hermione would have an elf that was told not to follow protocol…

“Marla, could you bring us a bottle of wine, one slice of Lemon Meringue Pie and one slice of Chocolate Fudge Cake please? Oh, and two glasses. Then I will leave you alone for the night.” Hermione smiled as Marla nodded enthusiastically and popped away, the requested items appearing on a hovering tray between them moments later and Hermione smiled, pouring the wine and levitating the tray to his lap.

“So, Hermione, will you answer the question? How old, exactly, are you?” Severus smirked at her, one eyebrow raised imperiously.

“Well, Severus, the truth is, there are several answers. If time was entirely linear, then I suppose I am twenty-five years old. If it is based on experiences, I would say I am nearing at least forty. And if we take into account the use of the Time Turner, I am probably closer to twenty-eight years old.” Hermione grinned cheekily as Severus almost choked on his wine. He coughed and spluttered, looking at her incredulously.

“You added almost three years with the Time Turner? What in Merlin’s name was that bloody interesting?” His eyes widened as she laughed again.

“Well, there were the extra classes. That was an extra five hours a day, five days a week. Then there was the extra study time so I could stay ahead in my classes. That was another four hours a day, five days a week. Plus, an extra six hours a day on weekends for more studying. Plus, five hours extra each day to sleep so that the studying didn’t catch up with me. So that means that I was living an extra four days per week for all the term weeks…and then holidays were…ridiculous to be honest. I basically lived each day three times during Christmas and Easter. Thirty eight weeks of term time, five weeks of holidays…I probably added almost two and a half years. I was probably a little over enthusiastic.” She twinkled at him in a way he found strangely endearing.

“Hmm.” He frowned, looking directly into her eyes for a moment before his lips twitched into an almost-smile.

“Why do you ask Severus?” She leaned towards him and he smirked, gesturing her over to him. He was probably more pleased than he should be when she stood and move to the side of the bed, leaning towards him as if drawn to him.

“Well, Hermione,” he drawled softly, using his voice to its full seductive effect. “My father always told me,” he whispered, one hand reaching a hand towards her cheek, his eyes glittering darkly as he glanced briefly at her lips. “You are only as old as the woman you feel.” She leaned towards him, her whiskey coloured eyes pinned to his lips, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and causing him to draw in a quick breath. This was getting out of hand. He leaned forward, ready to brush her lips with his own and then paused. This was madness. Utter madness. He slammed his eyes shut and turned away.

“If you are forty, it hardly seems worth it. It won’t make much difference for how old I feel.” His voice growled slightly, and he heard her inhaled breath. He waited, expecting a slap but receiving none. Instead he heard her step away, the curtains around his bed being pulled back and a shaky breath pushed through her teeth before she whispered sadly and left him alone to reflect.

“Goodnight Professor.”


	6. Professors Take Severus's Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom - Mistrust

Severus had begun to crave his blade again but Nika had accepted his order that she should never bring his blade anywhere except his quarters. It was the third day he had confined himself to the Hospital Wing. It had been his own choice in the long run. Poppy had accepted that he knew when he needed more help and had, therefore, let him make the decision as to when he was going to stay or leave. He had not admitted that he was rather enjoying being able to avoid Professor Granger. She had left him alone since their almost kiss and he was glad not to have to explain himself. Or worse, apologise. He refused to think about the dreams he was having after he woke up. He couldn’t control his subconscious. Even his Occlumency wasn’t that strong. At least, that’s what he told himself when he was panting awake, harder than he had been for most of his adult life, moaning her name as he spilled on the bed sheets without ever having to touch himself.

He sat upright suddenly. Someone or something had breached the wards on his potions stores. He reached out to the wards he had laid and checked them. It was a someone, wizard or witch. Adult, or at the very least, older student. He had not yet managed to make his wards differentiate between 16 year olds and adults. He growled softly in his throat and moved from the bed to put on his frock coat. He transfigured his nightwear back into his usual clothes and swept from the Hospital Wing. He marched through the corridors, his coat billowing behind him, the permanent glare cutting through the sea of students.

He turned into the corridor by his classroom and slowed his steps. His footsteps were silent now and he waited for a second outside his private storeroom to see if he could hear anyone inside. He pushed the door open so that he could see who was inside and make a decision of how to approach them. If it was a staff member less intimidation was needed than if it was a student. Unless it was one of the younger members of staff. Then it was just as fun to bring out his Pre-War persona, the Bat of the Dungeons. He peered into his storeroom and, other than noticing a few things missing, he saw nothing else. A noise from his private lab made him jerk and the door slammed closed behind him. He cursed under his breath softly and marched through the secondary door in the storeroom into his private lab. He stopped short when he saw who was standing in the room.

“Afternoon Severus. Good to see you up and about again. How are you feeling?” Draco Malfoy stood at the workbench, smiling at Severus as he chopped and prepared ingredients.

“What is going on here Draco?” Severus spoke with deadly calm, proud of himself for maintaining his cool façade. The problem with his godson was that Draco was still, in Severus’ eyes at least, the spoilt stuck-up little brat he had always been.

“What does it look like? I’m preparing to brew some potions.” Draco rolled his eyes and smirked at Severus, a poor parody of his own smirk. Severus opened his mouth to respond before a second voice called out from the corridor.

“Draco? He’s changed the password on us. Can you let me in?” The voice was muffled but familiar and Severus had to suppress a groan. Not her. Anyone but her. He watched in mild horror as Draco walked to the door to his private laboratory and let Hermione Granger into his inner sanctum.

“I wondered where you had gotten to. Almost everything is prepped. Have you got the cauldrons?” Draco ushered her into the room without even acknowledging that Severus was there, and he pulled himself up to his full height in an effort to be intimidating. Hermione’s eyes flickered to him before she turned to Draco.

“Of course I have them. I don’t go anywhere without this do I?” Professor Granger raised the strange bag that she still carried even after the war. It was beginning to look tatty and discoloured and Severus had often thought that her teaching salary should be enough to replace it. He watched in mild fascination as she reached into the bag and saw her arm disappearing to her shoulder. He knew his eyes had widened when Draco laughed, catching his eye.

“Brightest witch of her age indeed! I forgot about your special bag.” Draco grinned at Hermione and she blushed prettily, her eyes sparkling as she pulled out three shrunken cauldrons, placing them on the workbench and returning them to their real size again.

“What in the name of Merlin are you going to need all these ingredients for Draco?” Severus refused to speak to Professor Granger, but it had just occurred to him that these cauldrons were a lot larger than they would need. Unfortunately, it was Hermione who answered the question.

“The Hospital Wing is running low on its standard supplies because someone hasn’t been brewing. So, we are doing it. We figured these ingredients don’t technically belong to the Potions Master but to the school so…we are using these supplies to support the school.” Hermione turned to look at him then, raising her eyes to his face and glaring in challenge.  
“Hermione…” Draco spoke warningly before everything in Severus’ vision went red. How DARE she speak to him like that? How DARE they take away his role as Potions Master? How DARE they?


	7. People Tolerate Severus's Diatribes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptoms - Irritability / Anger

“Miss Granger, how dare you speak to a Professor like that? These are my ingredients in my storeroom attached to my lab! Just because you were a passable student does not mean that you can come in here and do whatever you feel like!” The bile raised in his chest and Severus felt the anger swimming through his veins, dark and thick and black as tar.

“Severus-” Draco spoke softly, and Severus turned on him next, seeing not his godson but the ex-Death Eater and young boy rolled into one incomprehensibly stupid package.

“Don’t you dare! Your grades were even lower than this Muggleborn brat and yet you think you qualify as a Master to make the Potions the school needs? You need to grow up Draco! You are never going to be as talented as your father was and you will never be able to perform the duties of a Master!” He stepped towards Draco as Draco’s skin paled and turned grey, pressing his face into his godson’s and spitting the next words with as much acidity and hatred as he could pour into them. “You will never be good enough Draco!” Severus thought he had anticipated the reactions of the room properly, but he had not. Draco’s bottom lip wobbled, and he stepped back.

“Professor Snape, while I maintain that we are doing the best thing for the school, I understand that we are not Potions Masters. If you were performing your duties, we would not have to. As it is, you have been completely remiss in your duties. Therefore, two passable Potions students, both with their own masteries in other subjects, and with Outstanding NEWTs under their belt, are having to do your work.” Her voice was shrill enough that Severus turned away from Draco, still slightly confused at the boy’s response.

“Miss Granger, you have no right to question my methods…” Severus trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. She was looking at him from the wrong eyes, the wrong face. He took a breath. She was not a child. She was an adult, another professor at Hogwarts. Something was wrong. He frowned slightly, glancing back at Draco and realised that even the boy he once knew was not the same. He was not a child anymore.

“Severus, it’s ok. It is 2003. You are safe Severus. We are not students anymore.” Severus’ head whipped back round to stare at Miss Granger again.

“Did I say you could call me by my first name? Leave. Now. Both of you” His temper raised to the fore again and he glared at them, whipping his frock coat around himself like a cloak, a protective shield against the look she was giving him. He stormed towards the back door that lead to his personal quarters, turning to face them before he went through the door. He picked up a large glass jar of Pickled Flobberworms and threw it towards where his godson stood, screaming at them as he turned back away. “I said leave!”

The door slammed behind him as the jar smashed on the floor. He leaned against the door, his heart pounding as he listened for his wards to click back into place. His head thudded slightly against the door as he heard Hermione Granger speaking softly.

“Draco…Draco he doesn’t mean it. He’s not himself. Come on now, take a deep breath for me and we can get this cleaned up. And then we can head to my lab with these ingredients and just get the stuff made.” He heard her murmuring again and desperately wanted to know what was being said. He took a breath, ready to open the door and do whatever was needed, and then he felt his wards ping back into place. He opened the door to see the mess he had made and saw, exactly as she had said to Draco, that they had cleared up his mess.

Why would she do that? Why would she care? Why would she just accept his temper? Severus scowled at the lack of mess and promptly slammed the door back in place, hiding himself away into his rooms. If they were going to accept his mood swings, then he needed to back off. They were starting to accept him. And that just could not be tolerated.


	8. Pullback To Slytherin's Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Isolation/Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to give you multiple chapters today and then finish posting tomorrow...sorry for all the messages if you have subscribed! <3

“What do you mean he’s ‘gone funny’?” Harry looked at Hermione, frowning in confusion. The poor boy’s eyes flickered over the third staff member in their little group and Hermione tried desperately not to smirk. Dear Harry, was still the single most unsubtle person in the world. Except perhaps for Ronald.

“We haven’t seen him in more than two weeks Harry. Not since he saw us in his lab. Or at least I haven’t. Draco…?” She trailed off, turning to the Slytherin with a half-smile that she knew Harry would never understand.

“Not at all. His House Elf has said that he is still eating. Minerva checked that. And Filius confirmed it. He has been enchanting his classroom board to show the potions he wants the students to read up on and brew. He’s not even watching his class. Pot-Harry, no one has seen him.” Draco turned to Harry and shrugged slightly.

“And you think I can help how exactly?” Harry tried very hard not to laugh. Harry knew he was not Severus Snape’s favourite person. Even now, five years after they had both decided not to die, Harry was more used to being avoided by Severus than anything else.

“I don’t know Harry, can’t you just…check on him? His wards reject us. The second we get too close, we both start to feel ill and then can’t remember why we are going to see him. I’ve ended up in the Hospital Wing three times now, and Draco twice. Maybe you can at least attempt to go see him.” Hermione’s bottom lip wobbled slightly, and Harry knew this was serious.

“Have you tried anything other than visiting him yourself? What about casting a Patronus?” Harry wasn’t exactly trying to avoid Severus. He was just trying to not have to go down to the dungeons and actually physically see him. He raised his wand and cast his Patronus, sending off a short message to the Potions Master.

“I can’t cast Expecto Patronum. So, it never occurred to me. I can’t explain Hermione’s lack of thought though.” Draco spoke stiffly from beside them and Hermione flinched slightly. It was his old accent, the one he put on when he was embarrassed or awkward or, in this case, both.

“My Patronus changed. I didn’t want to use it too often.” Hermione spoke softly, not wanting Harry to hear particularly.

“It did? When did that happen?” Harry’s head whipped towards her, just as she knew it would.

“Just after Eighth Year.” The trio stood in silence, each remembering their final year with a sober look on their faces. They were all thinking of the first time they had found each other sitting staring into the distance, tears running down their faces. They had all found a room off of the library where they had spent time remembering the things they had seen and the people they had lost. One day they had all found each other sitting in the room, all hidden until Draco had screamed loudly in anger.

They were pulled out of their thoughts by the arrival of a strange looking, short deer with one over-grown tooth and one that appeared snapped off. It opened its mouth and drawled in Severus Snape’s undeniably familiar baritone.

“Potter, if I wanted irritating former students to talk to, you would still be the last on my list. Even Hermi-Miss Granger would be preferable. Just leave me be.” The Patronus disintegrated and Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s not quite the message I was expecting. And what in the name of Merlin was that ugly creature?” Draco turned to Hermione, knowing that if either of the two people with him would know, it would be her.

“Tufted Deer. His Patronus has changed.” Hermione frowned, trying to keep a smile off her face. He had almost called her Hermione. He obviously hadn’t meant to but, perhaps there was still a chance of a friendship with this man.

“So, how does any of that help us at all? What are we supposed to do about Snape?” Harry turned to Hermione, more confused than he would have liked to be.

“I think we should let him be. I’ll try sending my Patronus on Monday if we don’t see him this weekend. At least we know he is alive.” Hermione worried her bottom lip. “He’s so isolated. I just wish…” she paused; her eyes filled with worry. “I just wish he wasn’t completely alone. He needs a friend. He really just needs a friend."

“He’s always been isolated. Now it is just self-imposed. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not a friend he needs. I mean, if it was a friend he wanted, why would he mention Hermi- I mean…Miss Granger?” Draco winked at her, half-laughing as he walked away.

_Damn Slytherins._ She had hoped he hadn’t heard that.


	9. Perhaps To Sleep's Desirable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom - Insomnia

Severus watched his Patronus bound away and groaned softly. It had changed after the War of course. Most people’s Patroni had. Somehow, his had become shorter and uglier. The first time he had seen it he had barked out a laugh that had held no humour to it. Now, he was resigned to its’ form.

He played back the message he had sent in his head and groaned again. Why had he used her name? Why had he stumbled over it? What was wrong with him?

“Probably need some sleep.” He muttered to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure when he had last slept. It had been the night before he had found Draco and Hermione in his laboratory, stealing ingredients to…

His musings halted. Why had they been stealing his ingredients? He made the potions for the school. If they needed him to make something why didn’t they just ask? It wasn’t a particularly challenging job. General Healing Potions, Dreamless Sleep, Skele-Gro, maybe the occasional Contraceptive Potion as needed. And Wolfsbane for…

“Who the bloody hell let the Werewolf back to…no…” his head felt fuzzy, like there was a cloud of Dementors around him. Lupin was definitely not back to teach. Severus had seen his grave. Had heard how he had died. So, why did he make Wolfsbane Potion? Who on the staff needed…no…wait…?

“Fenrir’s children. That’s what they call them isn’t it? Fenrir’s children. All the children he turned prior to…who killed him? Someone killed him…” Severus shook his head, trying to clear the fuzz. He blinked heavily; his eyes barely cracking open. He looked around himself. When had he entered the lab?

He needed to sleep. He needed to just rest his eyes, just for five minutes. Just for ten. Just for an hour. What time was it anyway? More importantly, what day was it? He cast a modified Tempus charm, revealing the date and time hovering in the air over his work bench. He blinked, desperately trying to translate the numbers in front of him. What did they mean? What was he doing again?

He glanced down at the top of his desk, expecting the ingredients to remind him what he was meant to be doing. He frowned. There were no ingredients in front of him. There was no cauldron. What was he doing in his lab?

A strange looking Patronus, a Wolverine he vaguely recognised, bounded into his lab and sat in front of him. It opened its mouth and he recognised the girl’s voice. Hermione had sent him a message. That was nice. What was she saying? He focussed on the voice.

“Severus…this message will repeat. This is the second repetition. It will continue until you respond. Are you ok? Do you need anything? Can I help?” He blinked, smiling crookedly to himself. She wanted to help him? He might even have a friendly acquaintance.

“…sixth repetition. It will continue until you respond. Are you ok? Do you need anything? Can I help?” How long ago had that Patronus got there? Severus shrugged and nodded to himself before reaching for his wand again. He touched the Patronus and it stalled, smiling at him in a way that was very unnerving. He cast _Expecto Patronum_ and looked at his strange little deer standing next to the vicious looking Wolverine.

“I am fine. I need sleep. Unless you know how to make me sleep, you cannot help. Thank you…” he paused, unsure of his next move. “Thank you, Hermione.” He nodded to himself. Yes, she had used his first name so he would do the same. “It’s very…” Again, he paused, unsure what he wanted to say. His head was fuzzy, but he needed to finish this message before she continued to repeat herself. “…lovely girl, hair looks like it holds a lot of secrets…what secrets hmm? Naughty little secrets of all the things she has done…all she wants to do…” he mumbled before his eyes snapped open in horror. Oh shite, now she was going to hear his mumbling when he sent his Patronus to her. “Fuck!” He waved his wand, intending to slice it through the air in order to cause the messenger to dissipate so he could start again. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

His Patronus bounced around him once and carried his stumbling, mumbled, certainly very strange message to its intended recipient. He swore and headed back into his room. He obviously wasn’t fit for anything today. Perhaps if he lay down on the bed…maybe this time he would sleep. Maybe he would just get some sleep and it would all look better in the morning.

He slowly unbuttoned his frock coat, taking his time, enjoying the simple feel of doing something with his hands. He cast it aside onto the chair he kept near his bed, unbuttoning the shirt beneath and untucking it from his trousers as he smiled slightly. A flash of white light caught his eye and he turned as her Patronus entered his bedchamber.

“Many secrets Severus…more than you will ever know.” He heard the humour in her voice and breathed a soft sigh of relief. She wasn’t angry with his mumbling and musing. “I keep my secrets Severus, just like you keep yours. Your House Elf will be bringing you a Draught of Peace. It should help you rest. Sweet dreams Severus. I hope you don’t dream of my secrets.” The Wolverine giggled and gave him a clear wink.

He smiled slightly and continued to strip his clothes off slowly and deliberately, thinking of her hair, her skin, her smile…and her secrets.

His dreams that night were slightly more…colourful than he had dealt with in a long time.


	10. Personal True Self Deprecation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom - Poor Self-esteem / Negative self-image

He had slept for days. He had definitely lost, at the very least, a whole weekend. But it had been a fantastic sleep, finally fully rested. And according to the state of his sheets, it had been filled with rather more pleasant dreams than usual. The clever little swot had obviously modified the standard sleeping draught. It was wonderful work and Severus felt better than he had in a very long time. He felt that, finally, he could approach the world again. He entered his classroom for the first time in a while and the whole room stopped. He glanced at the board, pleased to see he had managed the charm correctly to put his lessons to appear automatically. Thank Merlin for that!

“Students, you appear to have worked well this last…” he paused, trying not to show he wasn’t actually sure how long it had been since he had stood in front of them. A blonde Hufflepuff girl raised her hand and he rolled his eyes. “Yes Miss Carraway?”

“Two weeks Sir. The Headmistress said you were on a sabbatical, but your classes were to continue.” He blinked as he realised that he had been absent a lot longer than he had hoped. And why, exactly, were the staff allowing him to be so remiss in his duties?

“Thank you for clearing that up Miss Carraway. If you’d all like to continue with your studying, I will be in class from now on.” Severus moved to his desk and watched as the Ravenclaw students got back to work immediately, followed more slowly by the Hufflepuffs. Severus faced the classroom and let his mind wander.

Why had he been indulged in his petty ridiculous problems? Why had Minerva ignored him for so long? Why didn’t anybody care about him enough to check on him? Except, of course, someone had. Potter. Why had Potter checked on him? Why had anybody bothered with him? He wasn’t worth bothering with. His head rolled with conflicting thoughts. No one cared. Someone did. Why did they care? He didn’t give them any reason to care.

He heard the bell ring from a distance and watched the students file out calmly. His eyebrow raised to his hairline as he noticed Miss…Hermione enter the room and stand at the back, waiting for the students to leave. She raised a hand in greeting, smiling slightly at him. The last student left the room and Hermione closed and warded his door.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure Professor Granger?” His voice was softer than he had particularly intended but it was fine, nonetheless. His tone was cold, having decided that pushing her away was possibly safer than keeping her closer.

“I just wanted to see how you were, Severus. You had me worried about you…” she trailed off, uncertainty on her face as he scoffed in response.

“I’m a grown man Professor Granger, I am more than capable of looking after myself.” Severus internally cursed as her eyes dropped to the floor. This was harder than he had expected. She was just a girl, just a woman. Why did he care if he hurt her?

“I know who you are Severus. I know you have not been well. And, well…” she stopped, squaring her shoulders as she raised her head to look at him. “I worry about those I care about. Why shouldn’t I worry about you?”

“Why? Why? Still asking too many questions I see.” Severus growled, standing up and stalking towards her, crowding her space and staring down at her. “Why should you care about a man who is almost twenty years your senior? Why would you care about a man like me?” The shock on her face stopped his next words in his throat as she bristled, taking a breath.

“A man like you? What do you mean? What is wrong with a man like you?” Hermione glared at him and for a brief moment the thought crossed his mind that this woman was a force to be reckoned with and he actually felt sorry for the two imbeciles she had spent time with in her youth. The thought was gone after a mere second and he pulled himself up taller, leaning forward to cage her in between his arms as he leaned against the wall at her back.

“Have you looked at me recently? Do you think I don’t know what the students say about me? Do you think my mirror has stopped functioning? Or perhaps my eyes don’t work as well now that I am older? I am scarred and old. My hair is limp and greasy, my eyes are soulless and this nose? This beak I inherited from my worthless father is far too large for my face. I wear no colour and am too pale. And that is just the physical aspects.” He took a breath, preparing to start talking about his personality, when she decided to fill the gap in his speech with her own.

“The students are, as they have always been, complete dunderheads. We all have scars. We went through a War. Your hair is probably too fine for standard cleaning products so it may look greasy but…” she raised her hands to touch his hair and it took every ounce of his strength not to whimper as she tucked it behind his ear. “…it’s so soft Severus. And your eyes aren’t soulless. They’re fathomless, deep and dark and beautiful. And yes, perhaps your nose is more aquiline than others, but I think it makes you look distinguished.” She traced his nose with a finger and he closed his eyes against the assault on his senses. “And perhaps if you left the dungeons sometimes you wouldn’t be so pale.” She teased him slightly and he growled softly, opening his eyes. Push her away damn it, push her away.

“You, Professor Granger, appear to be suffering under some sort of Rose Tinted Spectacles curse. Have you been checked for Weasley products recently?” He looked down his ‘aquiline’ nose at her and she smirked up at him, opening her mouth to answer. “As for my personality, I am caustic, uncaring and often rude. I am sarcastic and bitter and generally speaking I hate everything and everyone. Or, if you want to read Skeeter’s profile, I am a dark and brooding hero with a broken heart. Either way, what in Merlin’s name could you possibly find to like about me?”

“Well, Severus, you are not wrong about your personality. Or at least, the portion of it you let people see. You can be sarcastic and caustic and rude. But I actually find it quite funny when it isn’t directed at me. You are brave, and strong, and so very intelligent. You have flaws and that makes you so very real. And, let me be very honest with you, I have seen you at your worst. And I still see something in you that I like very much indeed.” She looked up at him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips nervously before she stood on tiptoe suddenly and captured his lips in a soft kiss, her tongue briefly touching his lips as he stayed unresponsive. She pulled away and smiled sadly.

“Professor Granger, you deserve far better than I can offer you.” His voice was husky, and he desperately wanted to clear his throat but she didn’t give him a chance to continue what he was trying to say.

“How about you let me decide what I ‘deserve’ Severus? Or at the least, what I want?” She looked at him longingly and ducked under his arm, her fingers brushing against his stomach as she left the classroom. He couldn’t move fast enough to catch her and stop her from leaving. He felt a fool for letting her go. He really did not deserve her. Perhaps he should try to be more than he had been.

Or perhaps it was too late. Severus took a slow breath, feeling the walls of his Occlumency building themselves back up. Better to feel nothing than to feel this…


	11. Potter "The Saviour"'s Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Lack of feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the last five chapters are being posted today! I was going to draw it out but...this is quarantine and I am reading more therefore other people might be too!

The Great Hall was filled with the noise of a thousand people chewing and Severus felt it on his very last nerve. He could hear too many conversations about things that no one cared about. And when he looked at the Gryffindor table, he could see too many partially chewed mouthfuls of food. Children really were disgusting. His gaze flickered to the end of the table where the younger Professors all seemed to congregate. He had tried in the beginning to catch Hermione’s eye. To say something. To apologise. Now, two weeks on, he had given up. His Occlumency shields were up all the time and he ignored everyone. At least he was no longer always frustrated by his students. He felt nothing. It was easier this way. Minerva stood up, her gaze brushing his face as she looked at him sadly. She had been doing that a lot lately he mused. She tapped her goblet and the noise died.

“This will be only a short announcement before we serve dessert. I want to remind every one of you that my door is always open. Students and staff are welcome to come to me any time regarding any problems they may have. I also want to remind you that if you are concerned about any other member of our family here at Hogwarts that you can bring this information to any of us and we will endeavour to help.” She paused, her eyes again resting on Severus longer than he would have liked. “No matter what is happening in your life, I want you to know, you are not alone. Now, enjoy the rest of your meal and then off to your common rooms with you all.”

The noise started up again and Severus had to physically stop himself from clamping his hands over his ears. It was too loud, too much, he couldn’t cope with this anymore. He pushed his chair back, scraping the wooden legs against the floor with a horrible screech. He felt like he was going to vomit. He turned, walking away from the table, his breath coming in short pants as he tried to swallow down the panic attack. He knew that was what this was. He pushed open the door behind the staff table and stumbled, his legs giving out from under him as he fell to the floor, tears streaming down his face. He vaguely heard the voice of Harry Potter from the Great Hall.

“No, Hermione, don’t you dare go to him! He has done enough to hurt you! Why are you letting him get to you? He doesn’t deserve your help!” The Great Hall was quiet and Severus’ hiccoughing sobs could be heard coming from the next room.

“Harry James Potter how dare you? That man has been through so much and you are abandoning him? Not on my bloody watch! The Headmistress has literally just told us we need to help each other. What is wrong with you?” Severus heard footsteps and slammed his Occlumency shields back up. Hermione’s head popped through the door frame and she looked at him, giving the top of his head a sad smile. He raised his head, looking into her eyes and she blinked. His eyes looked dead, cold, almost like the eyes of old when he was a spy. His cheeks were damp from tears but he didn’t attempt to wipe them away.

“Severus? Are you ok?” Hermione gave him a half smile as he stood up, his occlumency shields fully in place.

“Yes. Fine.” His voice was cold and emotionless and she sucked in a breath, unsure how to respond. He blinked twice and seemed confused as he turned away, walking out of the door and heading towards his classroom. Hermione frowned and sighed, watching his back as he walked away. She closed the door to the Great Hall, no longer hungry or wanting anything to do with the people in the room.

She headed to her classroom, her mind wandering back to their kiss two weeks before. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, the way he towered over her, the way her heart had pounded. She entered her classroom and closed the door behind her.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned against the heavy wooden door. She felt her face warm up as she imagined his hands on her waist instead of on the wall behind her, his lips touching her neck instead of her lips touching his. God, the man was hard work, but she wanted him.

The bell rang for the start of close and Hermione sighed, opening her eyes and adjusting her robes. She needed to work out what was wrong with Severus. Maybe, if she could find the root cause of his problems, she could fix them and prove to him that she really did want him.


	12. Picture The Slytherin's Despondency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD Symptom - Hopelessness / Apathy

Severus stood in his classroom at the end of his last lesson of the day and ran his hand through his hair. It had been growing greasier throughout the day, as it always did, but today he couldn’t be bothered to care. He turned and glanced at his board, vanishing the slightly crowded spiky writing from his lesson on The Draught of Living Death. He walked into his office, deciding to take his meal in his room tonight if he felt hungry. He assumed he probably wouldn’t.

He walked to his drinks cabinet and looked at his selection. Was tonight a Firewhiskey type of night? Was it a Glenfiddich type of night? Wine? Champagne? Beer? Centaur-made wine? Vodka? Kirsch? The bottles clinked together noisily as he moved them aside, looking for something a bit different. Absinthe? Baileys? Pernod? He needed to find the right bottle…it was here somewhere…

A knock at his door made him raise his eyes heavenward. He wasn’t expecting anyone so why were they coming to his rooms? He frowned, looking back at his drinks cabinet. Where the hell was it? He had seen it yesterday. So where was it?

“Severus? Are you in there?” He heard Minerva call through his door and rolled his eyes. Why was the Headmistress coming to see him now? He walked to the door, opening and looking at Minerva calmly.

“Yes Headmistress?” His voice was flat and he hoped she would take the hint that he was not in the mood for a conversation. Sadly, she had spotted that his drinks cabinet was open.

“Och, pour me a dram of your Firewhiskey would you Severus?” She walked past him into his rooms and sat on the threadbare sofa, raising her eyebrow at him in a way that brooked no argument. He nodded once, closing his door behind him and moved to pour her a glass. He still hadn’t found what he was looking for and shrugged, pouring himself a large glass of Firewhiskey. It would have to do at the moment until he could get rid of Minerva and find his…Spirytus! That’s what he was looking for.

He stared longingly at the drinks cabinet and noticed the distinctive red and blue cap. Now he knew where it was, he just had to get rid of Minerva before pouring the drink he wanted. She would have requested the Spirytus, determined to 'make his life easier' and only have to pour from one bottle, and, at 96% alcohol, the old tabby probably would not have approved of him having it on a school night.

“What brings you here Headmistress?” He raised his drink in her direction, taking a sip of the golden brown liquid and enjoying the burn down his throat that warmed him from the inside out.

“I wanted to see how you are feeling and find out if you are getting any help with things?” Minerva was nursing her drink and Severus knew a one word answer would not suffice.

“I am…Minerva I am not sure what you are actually asking. What things would I need help with?” Severus turned to look at where she sat stiffly on his sofa.

“Severus, are you aware that you are showing symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Minerva spoke softly, her eyes shining slightly. Was she close to crying? Why? It wasn’t as if he was dying.

“Strangely, Minerva, your diagnosis does not come as a surprise. I was diagnosed prior to the end of the First War.” Severus shrugged, speaking neutrally. He turned to look at her and frowned as he saw her eyes were watering again.

“Before the end of the First War? Severus, you were twenty! You were still a child!” Her voice wobbled and he wondered if it was a sensible thing to talk about.

“Minerva, the things I saw during the First War were nothing in comparison to the things I saw in my own home as a child. I watched my mother beaten and bloodied and near enough tortured by the vile Muggle that was my Father. I saw those things. And what he did to me…” Severus shuddered and took a breath. “Did you never wonder, Minerva, why I learned Occlumency before I arrived at Hogwarts? Why I learned Legilimency before I was in my second year?” He scowled slightly as Minerva shook her head.

“Albus told me you were a natural Occlumens. I just believed him. Oh Severus, I am so sorry.” She sniffed delicately and the tears leaked from her eyes. She looked at him fully and he sighed, continuing.

“Minerva, I have Complex PTSD. Albus was aware. I assumed, obviously wrongly, that he had told you that fact when you asked me to come back to teach. I have had symptoms for most of my life. The symptoms have not got worse or better in the knowing of the name of the disorder. It just means I know it exists in other people not just myself.” Severus sighed softly as he looked at Minerva again. “Things don’t change just because we have a diagnosis. They change because the world learns the diagnosis and we learn to cope. And even then, they don’t always change.” Minerva clasped her hands together and he knew he should be wanting to let her know it would all be ok. But he wasn’t in the mood to lie to her and she had invited this disappointment on herself. He stood, his glass empty and headed to his drinks cabinet, refilling his glass with Firewhiskey as he attempted to open the bottle of Spirytus surreptitiously, pouring a measure directly down his throat and enjoying the strong burn. He sat back on the sofa next to Minerva and waited in silence for her to say something, knowing that she would have much more to say.

“Severus, I am sorry that you have been left this way. You deserve better. If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know. Or if there is anyone else you would prefer to help you, let me know and I will speak to them.” Minerva stood from her seat slowly, looking for all the world that she had aged fifty years in the fifty minutes she had been in his rooms. She smiled sadly down at him as he registered the words she had said. He shook his head slightly and she nodded once.

“Severus? Just so you know, no one blames you for anything that has happened recently. And it was Hermione Granger who figured out you might have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and told the staff to accept that you might be a little more unpredictable right now. She even told us that she only knows the diagnosis because she has a similar one, caused entirely by what happened in the war at Malfoy Manor.” A gobsmacked Severus watched Minerva walk out of his room in silence, his head pounding as he realised for the first time that he might not be alone. Not completely anyway. Other people might finally understand some of what he was going through.


	13. Protecting The Soul's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Poor Judgment

Severus had contemplated a lot about Minerva’s revelations over the following week. He was aware of the staff watching him more closely but he found that it did not irritate him as much as it once had. They were, at least, attempting to aid him in pushing through the worst of the episodes he continued to have. His flashbacks and intrusive memories seemed to only occur in certain places around the school, mainly the Great Hall and the Astronomy Tower on the one occasion recently that he had ventured there, and so he was able to mostly avoid them or ignore them when they occurred.

Filius had caught him staring off into space one day in the Great Hall and had, quietly, created a multitude of coloured bubbles right in his frame of view. The sight had confused his intrusive memory and he had pulled back to himself, turning to look at the shorter man with a flash of gratitude. Filius had regarded him calmly, nodding in acknowledgement and then turned back to his own task, decorating the closest tree for the Christmas season before the students left.

Severus had decided that he needed to purchase many gifts this year, not just his usual gift for Minerva, but also extra gifts for other people who he could now, perhaps, consider his friends. Draco deserved a proper gift as an apology for his previous behaviour. Severus had avoided him since the incident in his lab and, whether out of embarrassment or a sense of self-preservation, Draco had not sought him out again.

Severus had also elected to purchase something for the other members of staff, not just his godson. He had found a special gift for Ronald Weasley, a small pot of Broomstick Wax imbued with multiple curse and jinx defending wax. For Harry Potter he had purchased a small silver and blue photo frame and added a photograph of Lily from his child, one of the last pictures that he had taken before they had left to go to Hogwarts for the first time. For Filius, he had bought a silver hip flask engraved with leaves and vines. He only truly had two people to buy for now and was planning to head to Hogsmeade that morning; Draco, whom he had decided to get an Arithmancy text that was mostly out of print and that Draco would not have been allowed to purchase due to the restrictions placed on him by the Ministry and Hermione, whom he had decided to get…a present for.

He had no idea whatsoever he should be purchasing for Hermione. He had considered many options, but nothing felt right. Everyone bought her books and he didn’t wish to purchase anything that anyone else would buy for her. He wanted her gift to be different. To show her exactly how much she meant to him.

He left his rooms, ready to head out to Hogsmeade to hopefully find something for Hermione and to pick up the pre-ordered book for Draco and bumped directly into the woman he had been thinking about. She stumbled slightly and he reached out to catch her by the arm. She looked up at him as he steadied her and smiled softly.

“Severus…just who I was looking for. Are you free at all today? I am heading to Hogsmeade for some last minute gifts and I wondered if you would like to accompany me?” She flushed prettily and he blinked, unsure how easy it would be to spend some time away from her and purchase her present.

“I had planned to head down to the village myself. I see no reason why we cannot head down there together.” He looked at her nervously and felt himself almost sigh with relief as she beamed at him, sliding her hand up his arm into the crook of his elbow in order to walk with him to the doors of Hogwarts and further to the village of Hogsmeade.

The wind was bitterly cold and he plunged his hands into his pockets, casting a wandless, wordless Warming Charm over them both. She shivered slightly as his magic touched her and he wondered if he should be offended by her reaction to him.

“Oh! That feels lovely.” She spoke softly, humming as she looked up at him. “So, what are you heading to Hogsmeade for?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him and he knew he needed to keep the look on her face.

“I have a couple of gifts to pick up from Hogsmeade. I think this year it is time to embrace the holidays a little more than I have in the past.” A ghost of a smile played on his lips and she flushed again as she bit her lower lip.

“Someone who didn’t make the cut Severus?” She smiled at him, teasing him the way a friend would and he desperately tried to work out how to answer the question in a similar way.

“Well, I have gifts already ordered that need to be picked up. And then there is one…individual who is exceptionally challenging to buy for.” Severus shrugged lightly and she smirked back at him.

“Oh dear, I just have to pick up the gifts I have ordered. I always try to order without Owl Post, just because the Owls get so overworked at this time of year don’t you think?” He would have scoffed at her words but felt that was probably not the right response and so he just pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully.

“The person who is more challenging is probably only challenging to me I must confess. Most people would probably buy them a book or something similar. I want to buy something more…frivolous.” Severus smiled as much as he could, a closed mouth, tight-lipped quirk of his lips that did not look completely natural.

“Oh, I know those sorts of people. My parents to name two! Everyone buys them books. I always try to buy them something different. Or I did, before the War. The last Christmas gift I got them both a bookmark and a voucher for a meal out. We never did get the chance to go for that dinner.” Her eyes filled with tears and Severus cursed himself internally. Why hadn’t he remembered that her parents were gone, irreparably Obliviated and living abroad? Why had he decided to mention his challenges to her? However, it had given him an idea of what to get her. He stood with her, just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and turned her to face him fully.

“Miss…Hermione, what you did was right. There was a mark on their heads. Many Death Eaters wanted to be the ones to destroy them. They would have been forfeit if not for your spell work. They are alive because of you. Never ever doubt that you did the right thing to keep them alive.” She took a shuddering breath and raised her eyes to his, their whiskey golden depths glimmering with tears. His breath hitched and he bent down slowly, giving her a chance to run away, as he had in the past. His eyes flickered to hers and he noticed hers were closing, her tongue tip poking between her lips. He groaned softly and covered her lips with his.

The kiss was gentle, soft, perfect. His hand reached out for her and he gently touched her shoulder, sliding his hand to the back of her neck. Her lips parted as she moaned against him and he took advantage, his tongue tracing her lower lip before slowly touching her tongue with his. She whimpered softly and he growled as her hands reached towards his neck, playing with his hair. The kiss was perfect.

Until it wasn’t. Her hand touched the scar on his neck and his body shut down. He was unaware of his next move until he was standing, panting, eyes focussed on the ground where Hermione lay, her eyes pleading with him from behind the _Petrificus Totalus_ he had cast. Thank God that was all he had cast he though, casting a _Finite Incantatem_ quickly. He held his hand out to help her to stand but she shook her head, pulling herself upright and turned away from him.

“Hermione – I – I am so sorry.” His voice was smaller and huskier than he had ever spoken to her before. He hung his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have started this while I…” He stopped, a catch in his throat as he dropped his eyes. He heard her sniff and knew he had made her cry, again.

“Severus, it’s ok to not be ok. But it is not ok for me to keep pushing. I have to pull away otherwise it will only break me. I can’t be strong enough for you right now. I have to keep myself safe. I have to keep my heart, my soul, from getting hurt. I think…I think we should just head into Hogsmeade separately.” She walked away, her shoulders shaking and he whimpered softly. He couldn’t stop watching her and his bottom lip wobbled as he felt himself start to shake and his eyes began to leak a little.

He slid to the floor, tears streaming down his face and his shoulders shaking. He had started to feel for her and now he had ruined everything, pushed her away completely solely because his heart was scared, his head was a mess and his soul was tainted. And he had to protect himself from everything that might change the balance.


	14. Purposefully Trying Something Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Dissociation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the most challenging for me to write. Seriously, I wrote it probably ten times if not more. The main issue is that I don't know what happens when I dissociate. I just lose massive blocks of time and end up in weird places...

Severus stood from the snow covered ground and walked into Hogsmeade in a fuzz. He entered the Post Office, collecting his previously acquired purchases and nodded at all the pertinent points in the Post Worker’s questions. He shrank his packages down and put them into his pocket, patting them once as he headed out the door and on to the next shop.

He didn’t see Hermione following behind him as he floated from Dervish and Banges to Gladrags. He didn’t hear her call his name as he packed the scarf he had purchased for Pomona Sprout into his pocket alongside the boots he had bought for Rolanda Hooch. As a former spy, he would have been horrified to realise just how little attention he was paying to the world when he walked into Scrivenshaft’s Quill shop to purchase a notebook, two quills and a bookmark for Hermione.

As he walked into Honeydukes, he really should have noticed Hermione trying to get his attention. Especially when he moved to the counter and began to reel off a huge list of sweets, the likes of which he had never purchased before; Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Wands, Cauldron Cakes, Sugar Quills, Pixie Puffs, Mice Pops, Ice Mice, Fudge Flies, Fizzing Whizzbees and Jelly Slugs all went into one bag and he grinned like a young boy, surprising the hell out of the shop assistant who had never seen Severus Snape smile before.

He hummed to himself, sticking a Sugar Quill between his teeth and sucking gently, mouth pursed in pleasure as he walked towards the outskirts of town. He stared at The Shrieking Shack, site of so many of his nightmares, and watched the snowflakes beginning to fall. He cast an Impervious charm on himself, adding a warming charm and a drying spell on his clothes as he realised that they were soaking wet from his adventures in sitting on the ground and crying. The sugar from the quill began to melt on his tongue and he closed his eyes. They had always been his favourite sweet. The chance to purchase a huge package of sweets for himself had been too hard to resist. But it was the Sugar Quills he had been most looking forward to.

He turned back towards the village, bumping into a strangely shaped bush he hadn’t noticed before as he walked away from the Shrieking Shack and headed back towards the school. He didn’t notice the bush falling over as his strides took him away from her. He reached the gates of Hogwarts with the Sugar Quill slowly disintegrating in his mouth and realised that today was as good as any for heading towards the Forbidden Forest and harvesting some of the rare plants he would need for his potions.

Hermione had managed, finally, to catch up to Severus enough to watch with horror as the Potions Master headed into the Forbidden Forest without telling anyone where he was going. The new procedure had come into place after Hagrid had been badly mauled by some of the beasts in the forest. He had survived and so had the unfortunate beast that had mauled him, a Pogrebin that had, as yet, remained hidden in the Forest. That was not to mention the other beasts that hid therein; Thestrals, Unicorns, the occasional Hippogriff, and one very determined three headed dog.

Hermione shot off her Patronus as quickly as she could, hurrying across the grounds to head towards the Forbidden Forest and attempting to catch up with Severus before he came across any of the things that could hurt him, or worse, drown him in slobber.

She pushed through the bushes, feeling the branches scratching and clinging to her hair and her clothes. She stumbled, her hand grazing against something sharp and sucked in a breath as she pulled herself upright again, following the trail deeper into the forest. She heard footsteps ahead of her and hoped desperately that they were human. Or at least…not mindless beasts.

Hermione heard a voice in front of her and pushed forward, trying to hear what was being said.

“Such a pretty puppy you are. Oh yes you are. Such a very pretty puppy. Such a good boy. Aren’t you such a very good boy?” The deep baritone sounded not quite right as he spoke in a sing-song voice and Hermione instantly knew she had to get through the bushes and tress to wherever Severus was.

“Oh yes you like that don’t you? Hmm…? Yes, you do you good boy!” She heard Severus laughing and giggling and knew that something was definitely not right with the situation. As she burst through the bushes into a clearing, she stopped short, staring directly at Severus Snape sitting on the ground in the middle of a small dell.

Stroking an Acromantula as if it was a puppy.

“Severus?” Hermione called his name softly and hoped that he would hear her this time. He raised his head, looking towards her even as he continued to stroke and rub the Acromantula’s body. He smiled at her, a bright and happy smile that looked completely out of place on his usually stoic features.

“Hello Hermione, have you seen the pretty puppy?” He held out his free hand to her, the one that wasn’t stroking one of the most poisonous creatures of the forest, and she edged forward carefully. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of dogs Hermione?” He smiled at her shyly, taking her hand and pulling her down to sit next to him. Her eyes widened as he moved her hand to stroke the Acromantula but she managed to make a noise of dissent so he would know that actual dogs were not usually a problem.

A rustle from the trees made her glance up and she had never been so relieved to see Hagrid, Harry, Ron, Draco and the Headmistress in one place. Hagrid had pulled up short when he had seen what was happening and Hermione knew the situation was dire. Hagrid never looked nervous around animals. Except he had apparently remembered at that very moment that the Acromantulas had fought alongside the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Look at the puppy Hagrid! Isn’t he lovely?” Severus had also looked up at the arrival of the crowd of Professors that had come into the little clearing and was smiling happily, though his eyes seemed unfocussed. Hermione realised then exactly what had happened. She glanced at Harry to see if he was catching her meaning. He nodded slowly, eyes wide as he knew what she was going to do. They knew each other too well not to know how she would think and act.

“Severus, the puppy wants to play with your Patronus. Can’t you see that the puppy wants to play?” Hermione raised her wand and cast her Patronus at the exact moment that Harry cast _Arania Exumai_ silently. The Acromantula squeaked and clacked as it shot off running through the Forest, the spell weakened by the lack of words and wand that had seemed prudent.

“No! Puppy!” Severus whimpered and stood, turning to glare at her. “Why did you send my puppy away? Why did you do that? He never hurt anyone! Why would you do that? Daddy why did you do that?” Hermione’s heart broke as he fell to his knees, sobbing like a child and whimpering. She looked at the group of people, knowing that he would not want them to see this when he became himself again. Draco nodded, his arm sliding around Harry’s shoulder as he pulled the darker man away, Ron following closely behind, frowning at their backs. Minerva cast a protection spell around the glen and nodded to Hermione, encouraging Hagrid back to his hut for a nice cup of tea…or something stronger.

“Severus…Severus it’s ok. Your Daddy had to send the puppy away. We’ll get you something a little smaller, ok? Something smaller that you can have at home instead of out here in the cold. How does that sound?” Hermione wrapped her arms around him, hoping desperately that she could find a way of grounding him so that the dissociation he was obviously suffering from did not cause him any further harm or cause him to have a panic attack in such an unsafe place. She whispered nonsense phrases, trying desperately to calm him and soothe him without overstepping any boundaries that she herself had put up.

She felt the moment he came back to himself. His shoulders stiffened underneath her arms and he sucked in a breath. She shifted, ready to pull away from him, but his hands clasped her arm close to him.

“Miss Gra – Hermione? Where am I?” Severus’s voice was soft and she took a breath, matching his volume with hers in the hope she wouldn’t startle him or any of the other potential beasts in the forest.

“You’re in the Forbidden Forest Severus.”

“And what am I doing here? I feel like I have been Obliviated.” He hissed, sucking in a deep breath. “That was thoughtless. I apologise.” She smiled slightly into his back. He was learning how to talk to her. He was trying to show her that he cared.

“You dissociated Severus. You…um…you found something you wanted to look at here and wandered into the forest. I’d been following you around Hogsmeade after you ignored me in the Post Office.” Severus pulled away then, frowning slightly. He didn’t remember going to the Post Office. He didn’t remember anything apart from their kiss earlier and his disastrous response to it.

“What did I find to look at?” He spoke hoarsely, pulling away from her slightly to look directly at her face before standing up, offering a hand to her. This time, she took his hand, letting him help her to stand before she answered his question.

“A…well…um…you said it was a puppy.” Hermione knew that hiding the truth was, in this man’s eyes at least, the very worst thing she could do right now but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach this situation so that he wouldn’t react badly.

“A puppy? And what was it really Hermione?” He looked down at her, slipping her arm through his and ready to start the walk back to the castle, hoping he had everything he had intended to get in his robes. He heard her mumble her answer and frowned. “What was that?”

“An Acromantula.”


	15. Perhaps There's Scant Disgrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptom - Survivor Guilt / Excessive Blame / Guilt

Severus Snape was a strong man. He was a proud man. He was not, however, a well man. He had survived so many injustices and so many issues throughout his life but he could no longer do this alone. And so, he had asked Minerva for this meeting with all members of the faculty. It had been a couple of weeks since his incident in the Forbidden Forest and, while he was trying hard to control his symptoms, he needed some help.

“Thank you all for coming so promptly. I know I asked you all here but, actually, it is Severus who has requested this meeting. Severus? The floor is yours.” Minerva McGonagall sat down and smiled at him encouragingly as everyone game him their full attention. He stood, clenching his hands at his sides and took a breath.

“I know that you have all noticed some strange behaviours. I want to explain them to you as well as I can.” He paused and took a breath, noticing that Hermione had shifted slightly closer to him so that her leg touched his under the table, a show of solidarity and strength that he needed more than he had realised. His lips quirked into a half-smile at her and then he began to talk.

“As I’m sure the more mature members of staff know, my home life as a child was not particularly good. My father was abusive and my mother was incompetent. No, that’s not fair. She was too busy trying to save her own skin to be able to look after me as well as she should. She taught me Legilimency before I came to Hogwarts. She hoped that if I could read his mind, I might be safer from him. I taught myself Occlumency before my third year. I hoped that by hiding my thoughts and emotions away, I would incur less of his wrath and perhaps less of the torment from certain parties when I was at school.” He risked a glance at Harry and was relieved when Harry nodded slightly, understanding in his features.

“Unfortunately, because I used Legilimency and Occlumency for so long, I never learned to handle trauma and so, at sixteen, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Add on to that the events in the First War and those in the Second War and it becomes Complex PTSD. There are a lot of symptoms but, to be honest, I think you may have seen most of them.” He took a breath again and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Severus? Is there anything we can do to help?” Draco’s voice was soft but broke through the heavy silence and Severus was more grateful than he dared to show.

“The biggest thing I need from you all is to let me talk when I need to. Sometimes I may need to talk to someone specific. Please do not be offended if that person is not you. It is nothing personal. I just know how my own mind works.” Severus caught the eyes of the rest of the staff, the people who he could genuinely consider his friends. He smiled slightly, an upwards quirk of his lips that finally reached his eyes. Minerva gasped slightly as he met her eyes and she saw how genuinely he happy he was trying to be.

“Severus…you must know that we will do anything to help you in any way that we can. You are our friend and we love you. You are our family and without you, most of us would not be here. Is there anything more you need from us tonight?” Minerva smiled as those around the staff room nodded, confirming that he was their family. He sniffed slightly, holding back the tears that had formed in his eyes in a rush of gratitude for their support.

“There is nothing I need to do but apologise. Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, I would like to apologise for the way I treated you when you were in school. And then for the way I treated you when I realised you were going to be teaching here. I was scared that your presence was a way for me to be ostracised, more members of staff who disliked me…” Severus trailed off as Harry leapt to his feet.

“Severus…we don’t dislike you. We were completely terrified of you as children but, that was necessary. Now…well…you’re alright most of the time.” Harry’s eyes sparkled with humour and Severus blinked twice, trying to remember what he had been saying. He had become distracted thinking about Lily’s eyes…Lily…that was it!

“I also want to apologise that you grew up without your parents Mr Potter. Because of me…”

“No! Because of Voldemort. You cannot be blamed for what happened to my parents Severus. My parents trusted the wrong person to hold their secret. They put their faith in the wrong person. That is not your fault. I would not be who I am today without you. You have made me better and stronger…mostly out of sheer bloody mindedness. I was going to prove to you that I was better than you as quickly as I could as often as could. Severus, thank you for making me who I am today.” Harry smiled and stuck out his hand to Severus and for the first time, Severus grasped it firmly, shook it once and nodded. He released Harry’s hand and turned to Ron who had not stood up but was looking directly at Harry. He huffed under his breath slightly and then stood.

“Look…you were a right foul git at times when we were younger. But…I get it ok? I get why you were that way. And you’re alright now. Nowhere near as bad as I thought you were going to be when they told me you were coming back. You’re alright Snape.” Ron held his hand out and Severus smirked before taking it in a friendly manner and squeezing slightly tighter than necessary. Ron winced and pulled his hand away, nodding and sitting back down. Severus struggled to remember who else he had to apologise to but realised that it was probably everyone in the room and so he steeled himself and continued his apologies.

“Minerva, Pomona, Rolanda, Filius, Sybill…I would like to apologise for my behaviour during my tenure as Headmaster. I felt at the time it was necessary, but I think that was just my own way of justifying what I was doing. I was needlessly cruel and often ignored you. I would love to tell you I have a reason for that but no reason is good enough for turning my back on you all.” Severus took a breath, ready to continue apologising for everything he felt guilty for before being interrupted by a floaty, warbling, simpering voice from the end of the table.

“Oh Severus, you know we love you. Some of us more than others. We forgive you for everything dear boy, absolutely everything. You are a wonderful man and…” Sybill Trelawney faded off as Filius interrupted, saving Severus from the confessions of adoration.

“Severus dear boy, you did what was needed. No apologies needed. We judged you wrongly and too harshly and for that we are sorry. You protected us all from the truth and you protected the students. We are your friends and, in this case, we do not need your reasons and accept your apologies. All of us.” The diminutive man looked around to his contemporaries and Severus watched as all of the Professors nodded their agreement. Severus smiled and turned to one of the last people he wanted to apologise to.

“Draco, I am sorry for what happened in the lab that day. It was not your fault that you had to do my work for me. I hope that it won’t come to it again in the future but if it does, perhaps we could work together like we used to in your Father’s lab when you were younger. On the condition that there are no mishaps like the last time we brewed together…” Severus raised an eyebrow, smirking as Draco coloured slightly before smiling and nodding.

“I would like that Godfather. And I promise. No Peppermint Toads in the lab.” His eyes sparkled as he stood and Severus frowned slightly as Draco left his seat, moving towards him slowly before wrapping his arms around Severus’s waist and hugging him tightly. It took a moment for Severus to respond but he hugged the younger man with a small smile and patted his back. He heard Draco mumble something about missing him and pulled away from the man, smiling down at him before releasing him completely to move back to his own seat.

Only one more apology he needed to make now. He just hoped this one went as well as the others had. He turned to Hermione, gesturing for her to stand and was gratified when she did with only a small frown on her face.

“Hermione, I am sorry. I am so very sorry that I am doing this in public.” His eyes sparkled slightly as he took her in his arms, pulled her against him and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her thoroughly amidst the shocked gasps and puzzled exclamations from the other members of staff. His tongue traced out to touch her lips and she opened to him completely, her hands on his arms, pulling him closer. The kiss was perfect, so perfect that he almost missed his Godson’s voice.

“You owe me a Galleon Potter!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it guys...thank you for following me on this (much shorter than originally intended) journey. I appreciate every one of you who have read this. Love you all!


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